


The Sweets Shop

by bellygunnr



Category: Rockman X | Mega Man X, Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bakery, Crimes & Criminals, Fire, Fluff, M/M, Murder Mystery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-04-26 10:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14399871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellygunnr/pseuds/bellygunnr
Summary: A mundane twist on the world of Mega Man X. Follow the innocent Reploid X as he plunges into a fight for the world, himself, and Reploidkind.





	1. Booster Packs

There’s an elegance to Zero as he walks down the sidewalk, armor gleaming in the sunlight and looking for all the world like an angel. His hair is a golden mane that shimmers in the wind- reminiscent of the proud lion that used to roam the Earth. The sun wraps Zero in a halo that radiates strength and honor, silently urging everyone to make way for him.

X watches the warrior cut across the street from behind his shop’s window, metal clinking as he slumps over his counter. He’s captivated by the confidence he exerts, awed by the obvious power he contains. He stares blankly right up until his vision is filled with red and gold and green- ah!

“H- hello, sir, how may I help you today?” X coughs out as if he hadn’t been rudely staring down his latest customer.

Zero’s voice is a low thunder that threatens to sweep X off his feet. “I need a booster,” is all he says.

X knows what he means. A recharge-on-the-go, nicknamed boosters by Reploids who worked in the combat field. They weren’t particularly sweet, not something you would find in a Reploid bakery shop. But it was rumored that X made the best around (he wasn't quick to disagree).

“Of course, sir. High or low?” X asks, as if he wasn’t struck dumb by Zero’s presence alone.

“High, please,” Zero says shortly.

And X reaches beneath the counter to grab what he says– a high-charged booster and a bag. The booster glows intensely under its new paper prison, showing off just how potent it was. He offers the bag to Zero but not without–

“That’s twenty zenny, please,” and points beneath him, to a poster plastered boldly across the counter. His range of offered boosters and their nonnegotiable prices. He had gotten into scraps before over unruly reploids who wanted their energy free.

Energy was hardly ever free.

Unsurprisingly, his price was met. Twenty zenny was deposited into his register through a card. X smiles in relief and lets Zero take the bag without trouble. He wonders if the big red warrior will like what else he put in there…


	2. Six Hundred Zenny

X did his best to maintain a cool smile as his customer made her demands. She was part of the local Reploid police force– otherwise called Enforcers. Her eyes said that she was new to the job, that she had joined for the wrong reasons–

“I don’t see why I have to pay for it. I have a job to do- way more dangerous than this joint! I  _need_  that Ultra Booster now, three of them, or else I can’t work,” she cried. 

Yes, for the wrong reasons. Or perhaps she joined with the wrong ideas.

“I’m sorry, miss. But I make these myself, unlike you, and I need payment for my own hard work. Ultra Boosters are dangerous and if you want three, that’s six hundred zenny. I won’t be moving on that,” X pushed on calmly.

His skin itched underneath.

“Six hundred zenny! I can get the same stuff for fifty down the street,” the Enforcer sneered. Her name was Lilia– X spotted it on her name tag, revealed for only a second,  _which she had been trying to hide._

“Then why don’t you?” X asked innocently, head cocking to the side.

“Maybe I will!” Lilia snapped back- but he had flustered her.

No smart Enforcer would get Boosters from the shop down the street. Their energy was cheap, yes, but poorly refined and could clog up one’s body when they needed it most. It was hardly premium stock. Yet…

X watched with some relief as the Enforcer turned tail and left his shop. To think he had been excited… Six hundred zenny would pay his bills for that month.

 

The shop closed without further incident. But instead of retreating to his flat, he struck out into the city. He closed early on Sunday’s after all and he wanted to try something new.

Like human food. With the bans and old laws no longer in place, he was now able to try it. And as silly as it was, he wanted to try human fast food, which always smelled delicious when he drifted by those shops. Thankfully, he never had to wander very far to find a fast food joint– downtown Mega City was full of them.

He hardly noticed the flare of crimson in his peripherals as he pushed ahead.

“Hey, X! You’re out early. How are you?” A warm, low voice that clicked immediately: Zero.

“Ah, I- I’m doing fine!” X said, turning on his heel. Zero was already on him, all smiles and sun-hot handsomeness. “How are you?”

Zero was also an Enforcer, but of a different level. He worked directly with the military post based here, part of a very Elite program. Occasionally that Elite group would order from X’s shop- the  _Limitless Variable_ \- which is how he knew. 

“I’m alright. Finally got a detail at home. No more jungle gallivanting for me,” he chuckled. “I’m on patrol now. Where are you headed?”

X flushed with embarrassment, unsure of what he should say. The truth might make Zero laugh him off… but he was a terrible liar.

“I- I was going to get some food,” X admitted sheepishly. “From that place behind you.”

“Eh? Well, I’m not stopping you,” he said with surprise. But no ridicule- not even a derisive twist of the mouth.

 

_Note to self, X: human fast food is terrible on the processor. Mix it with energy first!_

 

 


	3. Refineries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'd like to establish that in chapter two, the request for three Ultra Boosters should in fact be nine hundred zenny, not six. Each Ultra is 300 apiece!

X took his sweet time in preparing his shop for the day, pointedly ignoring the Enforcer shadowing his glass doors. He did not even acknowledge the reploid until he had admitted him inside and stepped behind his cash register, where he leaned on the counter. Freshly prepared pastries and other treats sparkled beneath him, their citrus scent steadying his nerves. He did not like the particular Enforcer visiting him today. He tended to be a mean-spirited one.

“You should be quicker when dealing with the law,” the Enforcer growled. “I need to ask you some questions.”

“I was as quick as I always am,” X said earnestly. He leaned back with a smile. “What is it? I have answers.”

“It’s about the explosion on the end of this street. What were you doing at the time?” He leaned in, hands gripping the counter. There was no face for X to look at, yet…

“I was sleeping. In fact, when I woke up, my store was filled with white smoke. I thought one of my refineries had went bust, but…” X shook his head. “That was not the case. Apparently theirs did.”

“Did you know the owners of the establishment that exploded?” The Enforcer continued. He did not seem to be writing X’s words down, but a red light gleamed beneath his helmet.

X shook his head. “Not very well. We didn’t speak or encounter each other often. What did happen, anyway?”

The Enforcer growled under his breath, shaking his head. “We’re investigating that still. Can’t tell you.”

“I have… one more thing to add,” X started. “I heard gunshots– pistol fire, I think. Short little pops, right after I woke up.”

 

The rest of the day went without incident. X listened to the news intently, even went to the site of the blast to investigate himself. Reploid Enforcers and human police guarded the perimeter closely– but X’s hunch had been correct. The other shop’s refineries had gone bust, judging from the protective gear the humans were donning.

“Is everyone okay here?” X would inquire. He meant the police.

The shop owners had died in the blast. All three, probably evaporated.

He didn’t receive an answer. They ushered him away instead with sharp words– “this is a crime scene!”

Not an accident site? What had they found?

_“Earlier this morning, around 5:30 AM, a local energy refinery exploded. The blast occurred on the first level floor and completely vaporized the structure. None of the three Reploid tenants have been found but police suspect they were killed in the blast. What is stumping the teams investigating, however, is that there is no trace of the three tenants. Others who live on the street of the blast report hearing gunfire…”_

Noise and hubbub bubbled incessantly throughout the night. Enforcers changing shifts on their Ride Chasers, the growl of police cars, and the gentle whir of precautionary surveillance drones kept X’s systems on constant alert. He felt more than watched his energy levels drain as time ticked by. Tomorrow would either be very slow or very exhausting, if people weren’t scared off by the police activity. But the explosion wasn’t all that had occurred, was it?

Something else had happened. There had been a gun. A pistol- energy- if his memory served him correctly (it always did). Unlike human firearms, energy pistols produced a popping sound, as if sucking air and imploding. That was similar to what he had heard– yet the pops were muffled, muted, suppressed. Either the gun was of small Cell-calibre or it had a silencer on it.

Even he couldn’t deduce that much unless he saw the weapon itself.

But it was enough to keep him up.


	4. Citrus Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> strike in the dark

A week had passed since the explosion, with two more occurring. They were in different sectors of the city, however, and X was left in relative peace. But the news reported similarities between the incidents- no trace of the owners, only a few refineries had exploded, and they were in daylight. The human investigators were considering turning the matter completely over to Replods- an idea the left X's mouth tasting bitter.

But human-reploid relations always left something to be desired.

Traffic on his street had returned to normal, at least, but raw energy prices had risen. He winced as customers commented on it-- "but this was only five zenny last week!" -- and winced harder when they neglected to tip. But that was okay. He would get on with it.

He always did.

X was just setting out a fresh tray of energy cakes when the door swung open, its frame shaking as something thunked into it. The tray shuddered and threatened to tip before he was able to rescue it, shooting a glancing glare forward-- but nearly dropped it again when he saw who it was.

"Mister Sigma!" X said, hastily bowing away from his display.

"Hello, X. I hope this isn't too bad a time," Sigma said with a smile. "I have a request."

A request...? "What is it today, sir?"

By now, Sigma had approached the case and loomed overhead of X, dwarfing the reploid. He was a formidable presence- built for strength and power, and as wide as he was tall. His eyes were beady, narrow, but never glowered.

"My unit is celebrating a promotion. I was wondering if you could cater for it next week. It isn't a very big affair, only a few hours," Sigma explained.

His voice was low, from within the chest, rich and full.

"Of course- I would love to... Who is it, may I ask? And what are you looking for?" X was already thinking of what he would need. Catering-- for military, they would want alcohol, high charge, and lots of sweets...

Sigma shook his head. "You know my unit like the back of your hand, don't you? It's Spark Mandrill. I'm sure you'll make him something nice."

Spark Mandrill! Well, he knew exactly what to make for him.

"You flatter me, sir. As you know--" X bent down to grab a poster, setting it atop his counter, "- I have a few options available. Keep in mind, everything's slightly higher."

Sigma smiled, an unnatural stretch of the mouth. "Don't worry. Why not... this one? Two hour night pack."

A grand total of 1,500 Zenny.

  
It had exceeded two hours. X's food had been devoured, his alcohol depleted, and the only saving grace was that the Enforcers were not badgering him for more. But Sigma had fled the scene and X was growing irritated.

"Hey-ey, X. That go-goopy cake you made was grrrrreat!" Spark Mandrill beamed.

"Thank you," he said wearily. "It was difficult- I had to taser it to get the charge right... But I'm glad it turned out well."

"You rrrrreally do make the best st-st-stuff around!" And he was away again.

X kneaded his knuckles into his forehead. "Wait a sec, Mr. Mandrill."

"Oh, yeah?" The lumbering Reploid grinned.

"Tell your Commander that he owes me--"

The entire room shudders. There's a bang, and a shout--

"X- _there's an emergency!_ "

  
The _Limitless Variable_ is still aflame by the time X and his escorts arrive. The citrus-tainted fog is not toxic to him but it feels as if his throat is burning-- certainly his eyes are, threatening to leak tears as he faced the destruction of his livelihood. His only solace is that some of the structure is standing defiant against the green inferno, a black beacon to be salvaged.

This shouldn't have happened, X thinks desperately. There's something wrong.

The night blares in his ears, an aggressive siege on his systems. He barely registers the high whine of a firetruck as it careens to a stop, or the surge of Reploids as they surge into action. He stands in shock, back pressed against a Ride Chaser.

Flame and fire. He never thought he'd hate the smell of citrus.

"X! X, are you alright?"

He never thought he'd those words, but he did now.

"Y- yes, I'm fine," X chokes out.

Red and gold sweeps away, apparently pacified. The fog becomes thick with water and foam from the firetruck, cascading like a milkshake into a tall glass. His core twists in its chamber-- was there any coming back from this? Yes, there has to be.

It's an inferno. The citrus is making him sick.

Red and gold sweeps back. There's a hand on his shoulder that is big and unfamiliar so he jerks away, checking himself on the Ride Chaser and promptly stumbling. The machine drops to its side and he stares at the wheel hanging over his boots. Black over blue, green against black, white turns the street into a nightmare.

"X, they're asking me to take you back to the station."

The station. So soon? No, he didn't want to go there, but there really is no other choice.

The _Limitless Variable_ burns behind him.

"Yes. The station, then."


	5. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> piece of a puzzle

Three days. His shop was a goner, burned too severely for repairs to be viable, and his only solace was that he knew it wasn't his fault. He was meticulous and ridiculously strict when he closed down his shop, revealed only when the Enforcers pressed him for details. They couldn't write fast enough for he spoke mechanically and rapidly. Every step had been followed. Up to and including locking his doors for the night.

But still they pressed. And still he answered, unchanging, unwavering. Words clipped meanly so that they registered the point, letting the shock of disaster steer him forward with reckless abandon. The ice only thawed when Zero visited his doorstep, his size barely contained by the hotel's halls.

"Are you alright, X?"

Again, those words.

"Have they found anything, Zero?"

A nod, but he bit his lip.

"Yes. One of your machines actually survived, if barely. A device was found attached to it."

X's core quickened and he got to his feet, still equipped in blue armor.

"The device was attached to the pulse-pacer, probably meant to switch the thing on when you were gone and overload the machine. Remnants of more of these things were found in the wreckage, too."

His pulse-pacer was a machine that processed super-refined energy and applied an electric charge at certain intervals, enhancing the sensitive fuel. They were extremely tough machines, so X wasn't that surprised it survived. But the device...

"They wouldn't let me down there when I went to salvage what I could," X admitted, processing the information. "What about this device? Has it been found before?"

Zero shook his head. "First time, but yours is the first shop to even remain standing."

What a twist of luck, a turn of fate. Still left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Not that I can do anything with a husk of a thing. The only thing I have to my name now is a gun safe," he sighed.

"I really want to look inside that thing even if I know you're all registered," Zero said, lips quirking. "No one expected you to know how to fire a gun, let alone own them."

 

_A fist slams into his armored cheek, crushing the violet metal and lacerating some of his face._

_"You damned fool! You set it to blow too early, when X wasn't even there!"_

_"I don't see what's so important about X, anyway! Who cares if he survived!"_

 

The news told him that the humans had completely given up the case. It would be handled by the Enforcers, civil and military, alone. He shut the television off when it cut to his face. Why had he agreed to speaking to the news stations?

Courtesy, perhaps. To help make sense of everything.

 

_"If X even thinks about fighting, it will be over. He is the one thing that can stop us."_

_"What about Zero, huh? Why can't he?"_

_"He's already lost, as long as we can keep X out of the fight. Without a rallying point, the city will fall- it already is..."_


	6. T H I N K X

X comes to consciousness in a shifting, roiling darkness. His servos are strained with a forced lack of movement- he registers tightness, pain, torn synthskin around ankles and wrists. His armor is removed- weight only 120lbs, power  _0%_ \- and his Communication modules are down. He cycles everything that contains data– he has four hours’ worth of missing memory. Energy at  _75%_.

He probes farther, quickly lays out all that remains online. GPS is jammed, but active. Emergency Beacon module is active. He thinks to activate it but then declines. Without the GPS it is useless. He must bide his time…

The darkness jostles him as he waits. He’s packed away in some cold vehicle, a trunk, and it’s moving at considerable speed. Eventually- time is useless but it takes thirty minutes- the darkness slows down and motion stops. He forces himself to go slack, look offline, as vibrations rattle him. Become dead weight so that his captors play the fool.

He must think of a plan.

Strong hands grab him- metal, he feels the servos- and he’s thrown over a shoulder. Cursed silence. He wishes that his captors would speak so he could get an idea of what was going on.

GPS jammed.

Three doors open. Cold air rushes him, especially as he hears the titanium slide shut. He’s given a warning for Environmental Dangers– without his armor, he’ll freeze to death. What is a freezer used for?

He’s thrown down again. The ground is not solid, but hard and lumpy. Something shifts beneath him– feels suspiciously like an arm. Only when something beeps and slams again does he open his optics.

Dim blue lights flicker around the perimeter of the room. Frosty air rolls like mist from the floor, seeps from the walls- he follows it to his feet. He bites back a scream- hands, there are hands, and arms, and limbs, and reploids littering the floor. Reploids are piled like discarded dolls beneath him- he struggles to keep calm, where the hell is he, why is he here– what is a freezer used for?

 _Think_ , X! What is a freezer used for? Such dangerous temperatures, armor gone, oh Asimov- a mountain of reploids-! Vapor surrounds him. His vents have kicked on.

**THINK, X.**

Freezers- freezers- used for storing perishable items, meats, ice, vegetables- meat, it’s cold here, _-45.5 Celsius!_

**THINK, X.**

Consumer-grade Energy freezes anywhere from -30 Celsius to -50 Celsius. He thinks to his core, his veins, the fuel pumps– the reploids beneath him- vents shut down, thank Asimov- killer! Operation! Colder than the room he is in, the realization dawns on him.

Energy is frozen in order to sterilize and safely shut down a Reploid. Freeze-death method is used for Mavericks, general retirement, and capital punishment. Sterilized energy is removed and recycled.

He is in a freeze chamber, a death chamber.

GPS jammed. Emergency module online.

**THINK, X.**


	7. Data on a Dime

The cold is savage and bitter, crawling deep into his circuits and choking him. X struggles to think through it– but he must, he must, something has his wrists bound–

His wrists and ankles are bound. He tugs on them, applying what little power he had left into the motion. Something snaps and his arms jerk apart, now free, but his legs remain tied together. Movement is painful, he can feel his servos grinding, but he pushes through it. He twists around to get at his feet- metal chain, stained with oil. The room rattles as he forces it apart.

 _Energy at 65%._  

He rolls to his feet, turns to look at the mound of lifeless reploids. There are gaping holes in their chests- gaping holes in their heads- no chance at life, ever again. With empty cores and empty gems… His optics shutter, stores an image. Too much to think about now.

There’s a door. A keypad blinks beside it. X stares at it for a long moment, the gem embedded in his forehead pulses, and he stumbles forward. He can feel himself slipping into autopilot- even without his armor, he isn’t helpless.

_In order to survive, you must take **risks**._

Electricity courses through him, down his arm, arcs playfully over his fingers. He wrenches the keypad open and shocks it, watches the door slide open with far too much force. Maybe he was right to borrow Spark Mandrill’s power, after all. 

_Energy at 55%._

He stumbles forward, into blessed heat. He checks himself over– the Environmental Danger has passed, no change in modules, core temperature is already stabilizing. There’s a hallway. He goes down it.

It’s a twisting labyrinth of dim lights and reflective titanium. Nothing changes very much. Voices bounce occasionally- none he recognizes, until he reaches a dead end. This door has two keypads and a recognition screen. He’s too short, so it doesn’t sense him. Voices rattle.

_“Did you dispose of him, **Vile**?”_

_“Yes, sir. He’s freezing to death as we speak, all tied up and bound like some animal.”_

 The air is warm, but X feels frozen once more. They are speaking about him- worse still, it is a name and a voice he recognizes. Vile! An Elite Enforcer, now his kidnapper- murderer! Oh! If only he were a stronger reploid that could process data on a dime!

This is a lot to take in.

And he is at a dead end.

GPS is jammed. Communication modules offline. Emergency module online.


	8. GPS

The halls are filled with heavy footsteps. Metal boots, hydraulics, and synthesized voices all rush upon X at once- he wonders if its from delayed processing, or the labyrinth is just engineered that way. Either way, it fills him with fright. He doesn’t have much time. 

He looks at the door, tunes out the echoes, and tries to determine his options. There are two keypads and a screen, too tall for him to trigger. He could make like the last keypad and shock them at the risk of energy, or try to find another door to escape through. But then he might run into Vile…

And then he would never escape.

X wrests open the keypads and braces himself. He sways ever so slightly as he feeds more power to his weapons system. His generator pulses, blinks, and he jams charged fingers into either pad–

The door slams open.

_Energy at 40%._

He can’t afford to do that again. The door slams behind him. Evidence is left behind.

 

Thankfully, this room isn’t a freeze chamber, but the cold still startles him. It’s dark again- the blue lights flicker in gaps, barely functional, as if dormant. Between the lights are rows of thick cables, tubing, and piping that he tracks to the center of the room. They climb up, up, up to the ceiling and to a black rim of– he gapes.

It’s a massive cylindrical capsule, pulsing dimly with blue light. Tubing dances lazily through the liquid inside, twisting through the limbs of a limp silhouette. He looks closer- stumbles, no, crawls to the very edge of the capsule. Its inhabitant is armored but X can’t decipher the design or its colors. They float serenely in the fluid and X gasps.

Light flickers in their gems, two circular adornments that look more like observation lens than anything else. There is life in this- this reploid, yes, but it is deeply contained and barred from flourishing. But there is a reason it is contained, X thinks, and it is not for good.

This reploid is condemned, he thinks. Even before he is born.

His optics shutter, sealing the image in his memory.

There’s no time to dwell on it now– he has to get out! 

 _Energy at 40%_. Communication module offline. Emergency module online.

_GPS connected._


	9. The 17th

  
_GPS connected._

_Emergency module online._

In order to use one, he must have the other. And now he has both. The signal is weak but it is there- his only lifeline, his last chance… He must take it quickly. He hears voices-  _Vile, Vile, Vile_ \- encroaching, storming ever closer.

 _Energy at 40%._  He must use every last ounce.

Thump, thump. The door is no longer properly secured. Time before failure reduced by minutes.

Thirty, forty, fifty miles away are the nearest receivers. Home is the furthest, where he wants to go, but it is dangerous. Too dangerous. Metal crashes behind him.

His time has run out.

“X! You think you’re real smart getting this–”

Panic.

_Energy at 0%. All Systems **Offline**._

X’s optics open to darkness. It isn’t pitch but it is dim and murky– the warmth is the only thing keeping him down. As long as it is warm, he can remain dormant, and process his surroundings. Besides, after the stress his body has been through…

Any rash movement would sooner incapacitate him than help him.

He runs basic diagnostics on himself. He’s receiving an energy feed from a charging station– combat-grade, so the fuel is good, but he should disconnect soon. Minor damage laces around his hands, turning his finger tips black, or so his system reports. As expected– his body wasn’t built to produce electricity like that. He doesn’t find any cold damage.

There is still four hours’ of missing memory.

All modules are online. He sifts through his Emergency cache to figure out where he is. He’d rather be in a hospital.

He was not transferred to any of three receivers, it seems, but he was in Abel City. That was concerning.  And he knew for sure this wasn’t his shop– everything had been destroyed in the fire. So where was he?

He should message Zero.

_Zero, this is X. I do not know where I am but I wanted you to know that I am, at the very least, alive._

Calm, collected, until he hears a crash of noise from somewhere nearby. Then a series of fast thumps, hydraulics–

X braces for the worst.

Light floods his dark room, light frames a massive figure, a golden mane-

“Zero!” X gasps.

“X! Thank Asimov you’re alright!” Zero cries. He takes long strides, kneels at X’s bedside. He doesn’t voice what his eyes show.

“How did I get here…?” X asks, stretching a hand out toward Zero. Yes, black streaks and scars wrap around his fingers.  

“You teleported right on top of me and passed out,” Zero supplies. “I was… I had already found you missing.”

X bites his lip, grasps Zero’s shoulder. “Have you reported it?”

“…No, why?” Zero asks.

“You must not report this, Zero. I was kidnapped, Zero, and I know by whom,” X says fiercely. X packages the images he took, launches them at his friend.

There’s a pause as he processes.

“What in Asimov’s name?!” He growls. “Those reploids are gouged clean. You have to tell me everything, X!”

X nods– he will, he will, all in due time. But he is tired and he wants to sink back into sleep. His hand falls from its perch.

He grasps Zero’s hand instead.

“I will, I promise. But you must not tell anyone this. Especially not at your work. We can’t trust the 17th.”


	10. Trust Me

Morning light fills the apartment with a pleasant, almost homely atmosphere. X cradles a mug of warmed energy between his hands, the skin thick and discolored where the synthetic material was repairing itself. Zero sits across from him, straight and proper- but he knows that under the table his hands fidget with nervous energy, eager to pick X’s processors.

“Is my safe still at the hotel, Zero?” X inquires gently. His voice is soft.

“I brought it here,” Zero answers. “It’s in my room.”

“Thank you,” X says.

They fall into silence again. X finishes the warm energy and rises to prepare himself another mug. His time in the freezer had affected him more deeply than he hoped against– like an old man, his joints were stiff and creaky. Worse, his circuits were aching, thoroughly abused from his endeavors. He nearly drops the mug.

“After these events, Zero,” X says, more loudly, “I would like to join the Enforcers.”

Hands slam against a metal table.

His own shake as he pours the rest of the e-tank into his mug, barely able to slide it back into the oven to warm it.

“I’m  _sorry?_ ” Zero says finally. “X?”

“I can explain!” X says hastily. He stares sternly at his mug, the red lights in the oven. “It has everything to do with my kidnapping.”

“Don’t say that so casually, X,” Zero sighs.  _It scares me._

The heat of his mug is relief to his aching hands. Holding it tightly, he leaves the oven open to sit back down. His servos whine in complaint.

“Vile,” X says. “I recognized Vile’s voice while I was in that facility.”

 

 

Zero’s room is largely without decoration. He has curtains drawn over his windows, sealing out the sunlight (coward), forcing them to use the glaring overhead light. It was not the room X woke up in, that much was for certain.

“Where did you put me last night?” X asks, kneeling before his safe. He has to unlock it via the spinning dial, as his hands are too mangled for the device to recognize..

“In a spare room,” Zero says.

“With a high-end recharging station?” X presses. The safe slides open, revealing a pearly white cavity. Shelves are mounted inside along with several boxes organized neatly across its floor.

“This  _is_  a government apartment,” Zero says. He crouches beside X as he rummages through his safe, whistling at the blue reploid’s collection. “Hey, where’s your armor?”

“Mm, probably destroyed,” X says offhandedly. “I woke up without it last night.”

X lays out two pistols and light buster from his safe. The buster is a miniature version of many reploids’ standard buster, able to held as a separate entity or attached directly to the owner. X has an extended handle on his with several unfamiliar gadgets.

“I’ll attempt to recall my armor tonight,” X continues. He doesn’t want to focus on the state of his armor– if it really was gone, he would be stuck in his padding and pajamas for the longest time. “I am serious about the Enforcers, by the way.”

“I know you are,” Zero replies. “But I don’t understand what you want to accomplish. We both know your blueprints.”

Blueprints. X was an engineering mess as much as he was a marvel. Severely underpowered without his armor, he also had to build resistances to things, much like humans. He was also equipped with a unique buster and advanced copy program.

Something he had utilized often throughout his bakery career. But he was petrified of his buster.

X sighs.

“We need to get close to Vile and stop this. And I know there’s more than just Vile– but his being involved scares me. If I join the Enforcers, I can experience the process, the environment, rather than be acquaintances with it. That will give me the edge I need to stop this…” X speaks rapidly under his breath, half-explaining to Zero, half-reassuring himself.

A hand rests over his shoulder. Squeezes.

“You’re not going to be alone in this, X. Your hunches have never been incorrect before, so I’m going to help you. We can’t trust the 17th– I believe you. But you can trust me,” Zero murmurs. “Right?”


	11. Expired Biscuits

Zero isn't the thinking type, but he thinks now. He thinks of the rapidity of the past month-- ever since the first attack, he hadn't had a moment's rest. It was becoming a blur. None of the investigations thus far led anywhere, either, driving the Enforcers up the wall. Their only lead was at the Limitless Variable, where not only a machine survived, but so did a damning device. It was all they had to go on.

And then X was kidnapped, discovered by chance, and returned with his processors in a frenzy. He couldn't tell the 17th-- for why, he wasn't certain, except that it had to do with Vile. It was the second time X was targeted, too, but now no one else would know that. He wonders about X's hotel. They seemed nonplussed that he had arrived so late and left carrying a safe. If he had been anything or anyone else, they would have called the police on him.

His lips quirked at the thought.

They seemed nonplussed, and unaware, that one of their tenants had been kidnapped.

Zero snarls, curved nails digging into the kitchen table. If only he had realized this sooner- but no, he was entangled in his worries, so much so that he had foregone protocol to look for X himself. Lucky enough he did, however. X had never been wrong before. He was smart, if distrusting. But he can't help but think that X's abduction was either very well done or the hotel was involved.

He will just have to tell X in the morning.

_X is dead asleep on the floor of Zero's room, surrounded by his armor. Zero picks up X as easily as a slip of paper and deposits him into his recharger. Carefully, he lays down beside him, hooking them both up._

_Sleep is easier that night._

 

Zero wakes up before X, but lies in bed until X is awake. Sometime during the night X had somehow nestled against him so that he was cradled, black hands squeezing his untamed mane. This used to happen a lot, when both X and Zero were new to the world, and had no one else.

They still had no one else.

X blinks groggily up at him. "Good morning?" He says sleepily. "Zero...?"

"Good morning," he rumbles. The mechanism in his throat whirs. "Rest easy?"

X doesn't reply right away. He pulls on Zero's hair thoughtfully, then shakes his head. "No. Bad dreams."

Zero nods, watching him through lidded eyes. "Want to talk about it?"

It's important that he offers. Otherwise, he knows that X will box the past few days away, if he hasn't already.

"...No, I'll be okay," X says, but he doesn't meet Zero's eyes. "It's kind of fuzzy now. Do you still have the data reel I sent you?"

He nods again, biting back a sigh. X had sent him the data last night-- a"video" of X's experiences-- but it seems he was already forgetting the contents.

"Good..."

Zero makes a mental note to send X a copy of his own data reel.

  
Breakfast is made quietly and quickly. It's a simple affair-- energy biscuits and coffee, as X and Zero had conflicting needs, and Zero didn't keep much food in the house.

"Do you want to go out for lunch?" Zero asks knowingly.

X shrugs, uncertain. "I don't know..."

"We'll figure it out later. Learn anything new?"

"No. Well, no. Armour's okay but I uh, don't want to wear it," X says quietly. He takes a shaking sip of his coffee. "It'd hurt."

"That's alright." Zero bites into a biscuit and scowls. They're expired-- of course they are, he doesn't get visitors, nor eats, so he doesn't bother. "Sorry about these."

X shakes his head. "It's fine. Did you learn anything new?"

"Why do you think the hotel didn't notice you were kidnapped, X?" Zero asks immediately. "Think it's worth investigating? There was no sign of struggle in your room, either."

"I've been... processing that. Maybe it's related to my missing memory." X bites dissolves his biscuits into his coffee, watching the drink fizz over the edge. "How did you get into my room? Why didn't you report it?"

Zero looks away at the latter question, crunching on his food. "The door was left open, but you weren't there. So I went looking for you instead."

"You forgot to report it?" X asks.

Zero makes a noise in the back of his throat, draining his coffee. "Would you rather go grocery shopping?"

X sighs. "Yes, that would be nice, Zero. What about your work?"

His work. Ah. And he was dogging X for his memory...


	12. Petals of an Iris

The supermarket is alive and bustling despite the early hour. Its windows are packed with posters advertising sales, newspapers, missing pets, and local events. X hovers just beside the automatic doors to peruse the numerous papers. They were easier, tamer, to take in than the harsh feed of the news channels.

Until now.

Several of the papers are missing persons and missing pets reports. None of them are very old, the victims estimated to have only disappeared, at most, a week ago. His core pinches. One of those faces very easily could have been him.

X breathes in to steady himself. The events of the past week would not leave him easily, but it is up to him to not drown in them. He drags his optics away to look for something more palatable. The rest of the papers are store sales, yet one block catches his eye under the local events. A baking contest?

It seems… bold. X brushes his fingers over the flashy script. A baking contest in the wake of so many bakery bombings. Was it wise? Was it the city trying to rally the people’s morale? X ponders.

He stuffs one of the fliers into his bag. He will ask Zero about it later.

  
The store greets him with a blast of cold. It threatens to transport him back to the freeze chamber, vision darkening for just a moment, but he pushes through it until he’s by the warm shelves. Humans and reploids alike bustle around him, shoulders set with a kind of grimness that befalls only harried people. They smile, though, and X even sees someone familiar.

“Iris! Good morning,” X calls.

Iris turns. She’s a young woman, a civilian-type reploid with unique armor. A blue skirt with red bulges, and a long mane of brown hair kept in a ponytail. She waves excitedly in X’s direction. “X! So good to see you. Are you well?”

They meet halfway, chattering excitedly to one another. It has been too long since X has seen Iris-- too long since he had even thought of Iris. Though he knew very little about her, she exudes an air of goodness. He could trust her. He will trust her.

“Well enough,” X sighs. “But I haven’t seen you in so long! Where’ve you been?”

“Oh, here and there. You know I travel for my work!” Iris says. “Everyone needs a little hope,” she quips.

  
Sigma is waiting for him by the time Zero arrives at work. He parks his ride chaser alongside the other staff vehicles, grimacing as the purr dies underneath him. He isn’t looking forward to facing his Commander.

“You’re late, Zero,” Sigma says slowly. His voice is low, neutral. “Why is that?”

“I apologize, Commander, sir....” Zero pauses. He decides to be honest. “I overslept.”

Sigma’s beady, fierce eyes widen just a fraction. “You overslept? Has the increased workload been causing you trouble?”

“No, sir! It will not happen again,” Zero insists. A tremor of _threat_ crawls over his skin. It’s all he can do to keep his fists from clenching and teeth from gritting. In the face of Sigma, he must not break.

“It best not,” Sigma growls. “On your way, then, soldier.”

  
Zero’s office is barren of personality except for a row of cacti on his windowsill. He peers at each of them intensely, looking for damages, before sinking down behind his desk. A lot of paperwork had accumulated since the bombings began-- this was the first time he was able to look at it all. He hopes X is alright.

He thumbs through each paper, discreetly sorting them by case and letter. He would start with missing persons and end at damaged properties. Half of this stuff, he realized, would need to be sent to Vile or Storm Eagle. Yet because he was on the scene…

He sighs. It’s no use to complain. The city was in the throes of tragedy and mystery.

An energy crisis was quickly encroaching, what with two of the major energy refineries practically destroyed. Dozens had died in the blast, irreparable or simply dissolved because of the volatility of it. Human casualties weren’t nearly as high, but they were there, and the government was leery. Only a week or so.

The public would demand answers. He hopes that the Enforcers would not bite their collective thumb at them.

  
Iris delegates herself to helping X shop. She senses what items he needs before he speaks it, often sliding the package in his bag when it’s on the tip of his tongue. She speaks little as X talks like a meandering river, struggling to stay on topic, a dazed look in his optics. Something had shaken him deeply.

She knew what, of course. It was her job to know, to keep track of X. He was something of a high priority target, as fabled legends were.

“What are you making for dinner tonight, X?” Iris asks. She glances up from a canister of high-grade energy, scanning the crowded lanes of the store. “The whole store is your oyster!”

“Oh… I was going to make breakfast. I want pancakes,” X admits, a bit whiningly.

Iris blinks. Well, she should have seen that coming! “What grade energy do you want for it? Low?”

“...Mid-grade, at least a B.”

“B it is.”

B-grade energy is not so much mid-range as it is low-high. Many cheap brands of booster packs used B-grade as their supercharged base. It was useful in cooking as well for diluting foods for reploid consumption. Iris slides four canisters of the stuff into X’s now-heavy bag.

“Do you want me to carry anything, X?” Iris asks gently. She holds out her arm, noting the shake in the blue reploid’s muscles.

“N- no, it’s okay… Who is that?” X’s voice falters, weak and unsteady. He jerks his head to the end of their aisle.

She looks up.

A ghastly looking reploid shambles toward them, its pale skin tinted green. His paint job is chipped over his helm and chest where two large, circular gems rest, pulsing weakly. He has optics but they are dim and lifeless, hardly visible.

Her blood goes cold, core grinding.

“X! Let’s go check out, now, please!”

_Colonel, brother… We have a dilemma._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, JanitorBot, for aiding me!


End file.
